


M O N S T E R

by Neen (hachiOichi)



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Horror, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Rural Japan, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Superstition, Taisho Era, broken Nino, the soft kind tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hachiOichi/pseuds/Neen
Summary: A heir to a cursed family. A manor in ruins. And lurking in the shadows, a guest that is not entirely human.
Relationships: Ninomiya Kazunari/Ohno Satoshi
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter I - Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this story years ago, reposting it here at Ao3. Will probably make some changes along the way, but nothing that would compromise any detail previously present in the story. 
> 
> Horror and angst romansu ahead, enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heir to a cursed family. A manor in ruins. And lurking in the shadows, a guest that is not entirely human.

  


**CHAPTER I**

**I’m awaken by your scream**

**Into this evening’s darkness, a monster luring you**

*

11th year of the Taisho Era (1922)

  
The trip from Tokyo had been arduous. Traveling first in a tourist class coach packed with people and their bulky belongings, then taking a boat that arrived one day late to finally cross the island of Kyūshū in another old and uncomfortable train, this had been by far the worst journey of his life. Funny how in perspective, the walk on foot towards his final destination was proving to be worse. He had already walked for more than an hour under the unforgiving heat of midday sun, and even in spring, that was way more than his pale complexion could bear.  
  
He had asked for directions after stepping off the train in Minamata town, the memories from his childhood not enough to be able to find the place without help. Three peasants had totally ignored him. Another had eyed him suspiciously, and the last one he dared approach had given him vague explanations, not without warning him to stay away from that building. After two hours on the exhausting mountain road he began wondering if that old man had just pulled a joke on him, but when the old Victorian house finally came into sight, he couldn’t help but feeling relieved, and why not, pleased with himself.  
  
The western style hotel that once belonged to his grandparents had seen better days. He didn’t make use of the key, for the entrance to the hall, as well as most of the windows on the first floor, were shattered after years of abandon. He took a glimpse of the interior, and made a halt to dry the sticky sweat out of his neck with his already drenched handkerchief. The manor, once opulent and refined, was no more than a noble wreck nowadays. Not that he expected to find it in better shape, but definitely, traces of what once happened there were still visible, along with some other damage. Furniture such as silk upholstery armchairs or finely embroidered curtains had been torn apart, and marks of deep claws marred the carpeted floor and wooden walls. He ought to be cautious, wild animals might inhabit the dense forest that surrounded the house.  
  
None of it mattered. He, Ninomiya Kazunari, felt like a kid with new shoes. He had decided to move there to rebuild the place along with his life, and right now none of the decay he saw could bring his determination down.   
  
As night settled the clear sky gave way to nasty clouds, and with a strong wind lashing across the main floor, he was forced to find a room upstairs. The weak flame of an old oil lamp he had brought with him flicked as he looked for a suitable space, the tall ceiling transforming the dim light into phantasmal shadows. He finally chose the last room on the right of the corridor, a tiny and almost empty chamber that still had the wallpaper in proper conditions, along with a striking Art Nouveau style window that lead to a small balcony facing south. He would wake up with the sun and make the most of the daylight hours. After evaluating the current state of the building, he redesigned some of the sketches in his notebook and placed a reconstruction schedule, now and then having a bite from the plain onigiri balls he had packed for the trip.   
  
Later on, it took him quite some time to get asleep. The house was a plethora on incessant noises, the loud whistling sound of the wind making them unrecognizable. He spent all night in a state of half wakefulness, somehow afraid of losing conscience in such conditions. He eventually managed to close his eyes and drift into slumber, only to be awoken by his own piercing scream short after. He often had nightmares, he was used to them after so many years, but this time the surreal menace had felt much more tangible, the nameless shadow that had ran after him in dreams still very present.  
  
Panting heavily in an attempt to calm down, he remained unaware of how his shriek had awakened the other occupant of the house.  
  


*

  
He would start the rehabilitation by taking care of the outskirts of the house. A pile of scrappy brushes covered most of the building facade, and he would have to remove weeds from the garden grass also. As soon as he was done eating the last crumbs of his bento, he took a walk to the village to buy some supplies. He purchased rice and some local pickles in the only shop he could find there, and asked the owner, an old and reserved man, if he knew where he could find a small cart. There would be much to carry in the next months, he also realized a bicycle could also be useful considering how far the house was from civilization.  
  
He was knocking on the door of the Chiso family not much later, since they apparently owned a cart they didn’t use anymore. The owner, another gray haired man, reluctantly sold it to Kazunari for a not so reasonable price. When he was told about the young man’s plans, he asked:  
  
“Are you a Noguchi?” The question was laced with hostility, and he knew why, but he guessed there was no point in denying the truth. He had come to bring back the honor of his kindred, to write a new future over the mistakes others had committed.  
  
“Yes I am Noguchi Kazunari, pleased to meet you. It’s been around twenty years since I last visited Minamata, so I would please ask for your favor, since I’m a newcomer who knows nothing about this town.” No one could beat him when it came to politeness, his manners always impeccable when he wanted to. After all, his education had been anything but cheap.  
  
“You better stay that way. There’s nothing good a foreigner could find in this place, least you, a Noguchi.”  
  
He was speechless, and rather shaken by the reality those harsh words unveiled. Regardless of how pristine his intentions might be, he was not welcome there. That was to be expected, it didn’t hurt less though.  
  
He was back with the half corroded cart by noon, the sun much more clement that day. He spent the rest of daylight hours removing the thick scrub with the aid of some gardening tools he found in a little hut near the house. He would plow a vegetable patch and plant some seeds in the following days, in an effort to be a little more self-sufficient.  
  
After collecting some wood logs from the forest he built a fire in the sturdy iron stove located in the former kitchen area. The rice he had for dinner was tasteless but rewarding, he had given his best on his first day of work. He went to bed utterly fatigued, and this time, he fell asleep instantly.  
  
It was almost dawn when the noises coming from downstairs woke him. It had be some big animal, judging by the ruckus it was causing. He should start fixing the door and windows as soon as possible.  
  
Coming from the hall, he heard the reverberating bell ringing of a pendulum clock as his eyes closed again.  
  


*

  
He woke up short after, when the sun was still rising. He walked to Minamata station and boarded the train to Kumamoto, the prefecture capital 90 kilometers away. Once there, he found an inexpensive second hand bicycle and ordered a transport company to come take away all the debris he should get rid of before contemplating any reform. He paid a visit to a construction company too, looking for a good deal on his project. He might seem scanty, but there was not much left from his inheritance, and it was mandatory that he finished repairing the hotel before he was left penniless.  
  
On the road back home, he visited the family shop in Minamata. There was an old lady sitting in a corner this time. She was indeed old, perhaps the oldest he had ever met, and she idly stared into space, as if entranced by a scenery others couldn’t see. That or maybe she was blind, or demented, he wouldn’t dare say. The owner, her son presumably, soon emerged from inside the house to attend the new client. Kazunari was packing the few cans of food he had just bought when the woman addressed him quietly.  
  
“Young man… are you by any chance the one living in the forest house?” He nodded lightly, still unsure if the woman could actually see his gesture.  
  
“Beware of the _Mujina_.”  
  
“Mother... leave the boy alone.”  
  
“It feeds on tragedy, and as it happened with others before, it will _eat_ you alive.”  
  
“Mother!” He shouted when hearing the cryptic warning. “Don’t mind her rude manners, she seems keen on frightening all my customers with her ancient fables.” He spoke in a smoother tone, as if trying to correct his vented composure; then proceeded to greet him goodbye in an artificial bland fashion, his charming asperous nature gone. None of it calmed Kazunari, who wondered how the woman knew who he was in the first place.  
  


*

  
He woke in the middle in the night, anguish covering his body in sweat. The same nightmare, the same specter chasing after him. He sighed in exasperation and turned to face the window, when an image made his skin crawl.  
  
The light of the clear full moon outlined the silhouette perfectly. There was someone, _something_ outside his window, unmistakably looking at him. It only lasted for a second and then it was gone, wondrously escaping from Kazunari’s scrutiny. Had _that_ been part of his dream? An afterimage imprinted in his half asleep brain? Did he imagine it all? He really wished to believe so, but the vision of a sinister hand posed in the glass remained burned into his retinas.  
  
Unable to tear his gaze from the window, he didn't manage to get asleep again.  
  


*

  
He was visibly worn-out when morning arrived. He felt none of the terror once the sun was up, but the lack of sleep was taking its toll on his already weak body.  
  
Even so, he was not willing to let that matter affect his plans, and he continued with his cleaning. All the junk littering the hall would be removed by the truck guys that were to come soon, so he piled what he could in the entrance. Things such as faded silken fabrics, fancy sofas and their torn cushions, peeling wallpaper, rusty chandeliers and broken mirrors, he wanted to get rid of them all and reshape this decadent hotel into a comfy place, somewhere where guests wouldn't feel awe-struck, but welcome.  
  
As the clean-up progressed, he noticed the pendulum clock standing on the staircase corner. He suddenly remembered having heard its bell again that same morning... it never sounded during the day though. Neither by night. It only ringed one time a day, and wasn't that weird. Maybe he should ask a watchmaker to come fix it, or simply throw the relic away since it had a distinct western style which he was not interested in reproducing in the new hotel.  
  
He had heard something else at dawn, and it really made him feel uneasy, because there was no way he could avoid it for much longer. Despite being the last thing he wished to do, he admitted to the necessity of going beyond the iron door in the kitchen and start cleaning that place too, that was none other than the basement where the former laundry and warehouse were located. But he suspected, he knew, something was there. He was convinced all the trashing he could hear at night came from the kitchen area, but what could be causing such fuss? He didn’t want to recall the vivid dreams, nor the old lady’s warning… he was terrified enough of entering that abyss.  
  
He pulled the door open reluctantly, trying not to make any sound. The rusted hinges betrayed him though, a strident sound spreading down the dark stairs. He retreated abruptly, afraid _something_ might come up and attack him. When nothing happened, he tried to chill down, repeating the same wise words like a mantra - _There’s no monsters but us humans in this world._ He had been educated to maintain a rational stand on these matters, and thus he shouldn't cower in fear of absurd superstitions.  
  
He kindled the flame of the oil lamp and took determinate steps towards the cellar. Everything was pitch black in the narrow passage, and the walls, carved in stone, much older than the upper building’s. The corridor he found at the end of the stairs had several rooms on both sides, faint light sipping through the small and dirty windows in them. His steps got shorter, unsure, the invisible danger making his heartbeat accelerate. Something, anything, could be waiting for him behind one of the decrepit door frames. He tried to get past the first two rooms, but he couldn’t move. He wasn't even confident those were empty, for he couldn’t see a thing amongst the stark shadows.  
  
Sudden rustling coming from the depths of the corridor drove him into full-blown-panic, his shaky backward steps making him stumble and fall to the ground. The lamp knocked against the stone floor and flared violently, and unable to grab it back he stormed out, trying to escape from the omnipresent darkness, the life consuming dread making his movements clumsy.  
  
He slammed the solid door shut and ran outside the house, panting heavily. He tried to make use of reason again, to persuade his disturbed mind there was no _Mujina_ down there, whatever it might be. But how could he be sure, when he lacked the courage to inspect those somber chambers?  
  
Reluctant to be clouded by his fears any longer, he took his bicycle and rode towards the village. He needed, _yearned_ for any kind of human contact after what he had just experienced.  
  


*

  
There was no mysterious woman in the shop this time. Didn't need any more intimidating tales anyway. He asked the shopkeeper for candles and dried fish, yet the cunning man managed to sell him some fishing tools too, telling him about the extraordinary fish in Minamata bay. Kazunari tried not to make a bewildered face at that comment, because how could he encourage anyone to fish in those waters? He opted to keep his thoughts to himself, and before he stepped out the shop, the man explained:  
  
“Don’t let my mother’s words make you troubled. She truly believes in those foolish legends, but see… in her days, our community had little knowledge apart from traditional lore.” He didn't bother respond to that. He wasn't sure what the man's motivations might be anymore.  
  
Once at home, the collapsing house he already called home, he tried to catch some fish in the nearby river. It had been an obviously fruitless effort, but at least the peaceful flow of the crystalline stream helped him stay serene while reflecting over the fact that, perhaps, coming here had not been the best of decisions.  
  


*

  
Afraid of what dwelt in the basement, he considered sleeping in a different place that night, even outdoors. But wouldn’t he be found just as easily? It was no use, he concluded, and blew the plain candles he bought earlier with resignation.  
  
The atmosphere in the room changed gradually, becoming static, oppressive. Even under the wool blanket Kazunari felt indescribably cold, for he could sense something getting near to him, creating a frozen and inert pressure in the room. He was facing the window, and couldn't, wouldn’t turn away, because death seemed to be breathing in his nape, looming over him in impending doom. It was a matter of time before the lurking creature ended him.  
  
Minutes, stretched as if they were endless years, went by in tense silence, yet nothing happened. Yet he was still not able to turn around and confirm his wildest suspicions. Into the cool night, he eventually fell asleep under the acute exhaustion caused by the paralyzing fear, unable to tell if all of it had just been product of his imagination.  
  


*

  
Like in an endless loop, he spent the next day chastising himself for his stupid night frights, because seriously, when the sun was up there was no trace of any terrifying specter in the house.  
  
Even so, he went to bed expecting the worse again. It was like the house were cursed by the obscurity of night. Short after closing his eyes, he got the same feeling again. Only this time he could also _hear_ it.  
  
Footsteps grew gradually closer.  
  
He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t- Wait.  
  
_Footsteps_ … one at a time.  
  
It was a _human_. Or walked on two legs at least. He perceived the sound of his breathing, hushed, even. Deep enough to be considered masculine. He actually was human, which made him feel tremendously relieved, but again... why would anyone want to watch him in such a creepy way?  
  
Then he understood. The one haunting him in sleepless nights could perfectly belong in the list of those who sought vengeance. Had the string finally reached him? He should maybe feel grateful if that were the case, because at least, everything was going to end fucking right away.   
  
To his dismay, the lurker didn't say a thing in the interminable lapse of time he stood there, nor did he move from the spot near the door. But since Kazunari was not brave enough to acknowledge him either, his anxiety only increased. It would have been comical if not for the gravity of the situation.   
  
The unwanted visitor finally left, his steps quiet as before, but Kazunari did not catch sleep till dawn arrived, the sound of the goddamn clock briefly disturbing his half dozing state.  
  


*

  
He woke up at noon, all energy to keep working gone.  
  
Pedaling with no resolution at all, he reached Minamata bay. The ebb and flow of the tide was unceasing, and he mused over the concept of unstoppable cadence... undeniably, _what goes around comes around_. He pondered if he had unconsciously started this moronic adventure to close the circle, this way allowing fate to bring a righteous retaliation upon him.  
  
Whatever it may come, he was not going to forfeit his dream. He would go on repairing the manor, lest he be annihilated along with it.  
  
Once he was back, he ventured into the basement again, this time positive no mythical creature would attack him in the dark. There he found what could be called a bedding, dirty and tattered, on the floor of the first room on the left. Even in the dim light and agitated state of mind of the previous day, he would have seen him. So he deduced the man only spent the nights down there.  
  
His heart clenched a bit when inspecting the room further. It was shady, full of dust and smelled of mold. Simply put, it was filthy. Such a miserable life, he couldn't understand why the guy had to live like a rat.  
  
Why was he absent by day?... where was he in that very moment?  
  


*

  
When bedtime arrived, he went into manic mode again. Once all empathy for the enigmatic man had vanished, he pondered if that would be the night, the time when the stranger would finally finish him. His brain was absolutely drained after days without any sufficient sleep and too many worries, so it was no surprise to him when he subdued to sheer terror once again, his mind bordering on madness.  
  
The nocturnal visitor was back at his door.  
  
After another infinite stretch of stiff silence, Kazunari briefly wondered what the man was doing, standing there like an idiot. Maybe he was just a feeble-minded that had escaped from somewhere. Or a boy that had been abandoned as a kid and didn’t even know how to speak. What if he was merely waiting for the right time to kill him? After all, he had come and stolen this hideout from him, and just like animals, uncivilized men used to be quite violent and unreasonable when it came to territory matters.  
  
He knew it was dangerous, and that he would probably achieve nothing but hastening the fatal turn of events, but he couldn't be speculating forever. So in a nervous and rushed manner, he ventured:  
  
“Who are you?” Soft words that didn't prevent the intruder from retreating as if he had just been burnt. Definitely not the reaction he had expected.  
  
“Wait! Wait… don’t be afraid.” Shouldn’t he be the one shitting in his pants? The stranger stopped in his tracks and looked into the room again. Kazunari could only discern a short form on his threshold. “Where are you during the day?... What- what do you do?  
  
“I run. I run far away… so that no human is near me.”  
  
“That’s why you live here alone?”  
  
His question was left unanswered, and Kazunari soon understood the man was not there anymore. He realized finally, the furtive guy must have been avoiding him since he came.  
  
What had happened to him to be this afraid of people?

  
*

  
On the following days there was no shadow impeding his sleep, and he was afraid he might have scared his _guest_ for good. Just when he had started to fancy the idea of living with some sort of roommate. On the fourth morning though, just before night was over, the damned clock interrupted his rest, and the noises that ensued comforted him. It was _him_ , closing the iron door and probably disappearing till night came again.  
  
He tried searching for him then, but the sneaky fellow was out of the house before he even reached the ground floor. His distrust was definitely deep-rooted, a wary behavior perhaps linked to some tragic past incident. Kazunari had never felt sorry for anyone, not like that, not when he had never been presented the chance to worry about any other but himself, loneliness always embracing him like a blanket of spines.  
  
But maybe this time... maybe he could try and help the guy out, make one last effort to create some kind of connection and liberate himself from isolation.  
  
Make use of altruism in hopes of finding something akin to happiness.


	2. Squatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Better alone that in bad company, some would say. Kazunari thinks otherwise.

****

**CHAPTER II**

**It’s not about outward appearances**   
**Embrace what’s in my heart**

*****

  
A creaky truck stopped on the outskirts of Minamata town, where Kazunari had been idly waiting for nearly an hour. It was the builder crew from Kumamoto, ready to be lead towards their working place in order to install a new door. Windows should be fixed within a week, and thus, no one would come in without his permission.  
  
He thought of ways to use this on his behalf, a trick to make his guest confront him. He would not close the door and leave the guy out. Neither did he consider welcoming him by opening it as if he were the man’s butler, mainly because he would run away again. Instead, he opted for leaving it ajar.  
  
It had been three hours since sunset when the front door opened so very slowly. Kazunari had been sitting on the stairs for a while, and waited until the man was on his way to the kitchen to speak.  
  
“Why are you avoiding me?” He obviously was, because he jumped as soon as he heard the other’s voice. They couldn't see each other clearly, the night too dark to illuminate such a wide hall, but Kazunari could make out the oddly shape in which the guy's hair was styled, combed backwards and pointing up. He looked like a chestnut.  
  
He still had his doubts about the connection this strange man might have with the darkest of his secrets, but even if that were the case, wouldn't it be futile for any of the affected ones to be haunting this house with their misery?  
  
“Told you. I don’t belong within humans.”  
  
“Humans? Aren’t you _human_ too?” He was half joking, being rather cocky even. His crooked grin died at the stranger’s curt response.  
  
“Guess so” he said, resuming his stroll. Unwilling to leave him part, Kazunari forced the unproductive interrogation a bit further.  
  
“Where do you belong then?”  
  
“The forest, I suppose.” The guy was certainly ambiguous.  
  
“You live in the wildness… then how come you’re schooled?” During his inspection of the basement, he had found a pile of frayed books next to the lousy futon. He had possibly ventured too far when assuming the owner knew how to read though.  
  
“I’m not a beast. Not now at least.” Kazunari didn’t know what to make of those words. “My kindred… they taught me everything I know.”  
  
“Then… why do you live alone?”  
  
“There’s no one left.”  
  
“Wha… what do you mean by-” The question never left his mouth… for he needed no more information. The mistrust he felt towards people, the fear… Someone had hurt him, and presumably done even worse to his family. He just hoped they weren’t taken away by the sin his own family had committed.  
  
  
By the time he was back from his remorseful reverie, the man was already on his way to the basement.  
  


*

  
He had left a pair of pants and a shirt in the basement, aware the man had no spare clothes. When Kazunari went down next day, he found them there, neatly folded over the dirty sheets. They had been used though, for he could catch the man's scent in them, which was not exactly pleasant. They were stained with blood as well.  
  
What the heck had happened in there the previous night? And why would he change again? He doubted his usual clothes were any cleaner, so wherever he went by day, why don't use those instead? Something about it made him feel rather uneasy.  
  
He retired to bed early, not willing to discuss the issue with the weird man.  
  
Hours later, the clock waked him once again. He was definitely throwing it away. His bladder full to overflowing, he got up to take a pee when his eyes landed on something outside the window.  
  
It was him, the man living in the cellar, crossing the garden stark naked.  
  
It was almost dawn, the faint peripheral glow of the sun illuminating the landscape. The orb would rise in few seconds.  
  
He seemed to be heading to the woods, and looked rough and primitive, his steps raw, ungraceful. But then, why was he hunching that way? What was… wha-  
  
The small body trembled, and under dislocating shakes, his limbs changed, growing impossibly. Before he could be hidden by the impenetrable forest, Kazunari plainly behold tan skin being covered by bronze hair.  
  
The dreadful image left him rooted in front of the window, feeling utterly devastated, repulsed, terrified. A brutal shiver rocked his whole being, and he had to make a huge effort not to wet himself due to the sudden limpness his body was suffering.  
  
He had abruptly woken up from his stupid enthusiasm. He deserved it, for he had been naive, reckless. Full of false hope.  
  
And that same pathetic dream of forming a bond, any kind of bond, had led him to live under the same roof with none other than a _monster_.  
  


*

  
Next night, the monstrous creature was back in his room, and Kazunari was again caged by the same terror he had felt when he had first arrived there, only now it was way more acute, the danger much more real.  
  
But again, the guy, who was apparently as human as he had been on preceding nights, did nothing but stare. He was more than aware of the terrible consequences having him around might cause, but after minutes waiting for any kind of reaction from him, he guessed he was safe for the time being.  
  
Besides, curiosity always played against his better judgment. It might be due to his merciful nature that he had spent half the day pitying this unearthly being, because after all, he knew what being cursed meant. But how was this guy even _possible_?  
  
His prudent self once again deterred, he dared speak to him.  
  
“I saw you this morning.”  
  
Only silence ensued the straightforward assertion. “I know.” The man behind the door said nothing, but his presence seemed to evanesce momentarily.  
  
“That’s why you live here, alone. That’s why the clock sounds each morning just before dawn, you set it so that-” He was still somewhat in denial, the long years of scientific education impeding him from believing such fabrications, but he asked anyway.  
  
“Are you the Mujina they talk about?” He shifted under the blankets to face the door. He saw no clear features once again.  
  
“I’ve been called different names. None of them amiable.” Should he feel afraid when this guy inspired nothing but compassion? “Not that I ever felt like befriending anyone.”  
  
“Don’t you get bored?” That was certainly a stupid question to ask in such a conversation, but Kazunari couldn't stop from feeling nagged by it. He seemed okay with his circumstances, didn’t want people’s company nor the unreachable warmth he had yearned for since he was a kid. He wondered if this guy could help him learn how to live so detached from emotion.  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“And what do you do when you're nor-… when you're like this?”  
  
“Nothing” he said matter-of-factly, as if it were the normal thing to do. Kazunari finallyS grasped why this man stared at him forever. He must have been his best and only entertainment in years.  
  
“So… how long have you been here? ...Living in that pit.”  
  
“Pit?”  
  
“The basement. That place is a nightmare.”  
  
“Oh… it’s fine. I don’t need more.” The obstinate humbleness of the guy was starting to irk him.  
  
“Whatever suits you best” he said half annoyed, turning around in an overdramatic antic.  
  
“It’s been- won't be accurate... but it’s been about twenty years since I found this place.”  
  
“Twenty? Only few years after baachan left this place then…”  
  
“You own this place?”  
  
“Sort of. I inherited it. Want to… wish to rebuild it.”  
  
“In that case, I won’t be a problem. I’ll find a new place tomorrow night.”  
  
“What?” That was so drastic. Maybe he had misunderstood Kazunari’s actual mood? Had he been too theatrical when he turned his back to him? Truth was, he didn’t feel threaten each time they spoke. Instead, he felt his interest growing each day, as if the man were a riddle he needed to resolve.  
  
“You can stay, if you want.” In fact, is mere egoism what made him say that. It was reassuring, not being alone in such a huge and deserted house, and maybe he could persuade the intruder help him with the reform in exchange for shelter.  
  
Either way, the man had said nothing before leaving his spot on the doorstep. Kazunari figured the unlikely companion might not be as civilized as he had foreseen, for he really had no ability when it came to communication.  
  


*

  
A few days later the man proved him wrong.  
  
Roaming the manor with his sketch book in hands, Kazunari had finally decided on each and every little detail he wanted to change. When he tried to check on the notes for the hall design though, the notebook was nowhere to be seen. He gave up searching for it once he inspected the whole house, and spent the rest of the day in a remarkable foul mood. That object was extremely important to him.  
  
His worries ended that very night.  
  
“Ka-kazu… Kazu-naaari” the man’s vacillating voice echoed from the corridor. His stealthy arm left the notebook on a shelf next to the door. So he actually did know how to read. Sort of.  
  
His mother’s beautiful handwriting adorned the leather cover. He could still remember how she would write his given name on it right after he opened the gift, so many years ago.  
  
“Did you steal it for me?” There was no recrimination, just perplexity in Kazunari’s words.  
  
“Found it thrown in the garden.” Oh right. He had been taking care of the vegetable patch on the previous day. He was such a moron.  
  
“Thank you.” At least, it had not rained before the man found it. He was highly grateful to him. “And what’s your name?”  
  
“My name? …Satoshi.”  
  
“What else?”  
  
“What do you mean what else?”  
  
“Your surname… I’m just being nosy.”  
  
“Ah… I have none. What’s yours?” Kazunari hesitated.  
  
“You neither have one?”  
  
“Nah… no, just- Noguchi. It is, it was Noguchi, but I changed it to Ninomiya. I rather like you to call me Ninomiya.”  
  
“I’ll call you Kazunari. You’ll call me Satoshi.” That seemed rather fair. He left right away, never hearing Kazunari’s hushed _goodnight._  
  


*

  
He had left a note telling his guest to come upstairs to sleep. It had some sort of unintentional double meaning, and he wondered if the guy could tell when someone was teasing him. He was certain that if told directly, he would manage nothing, so he set some kind of trap.  
  
As expected, Satoshi ignored the note, but once he reached the cellar, there was no sign of his ratty belongings. He felt seriously affronted, certain that the snob owner was trying to boss him around.  
  
Kazunari woke up to find the other’s clothes scattered over the bed of the first room upstairs, just where he had left them the previous evening. Yet the bed was unmade, the sheets tousled.  
  
He had won this battle.  
  
Later on, if he ever got the chance giving his evasive behavior, he would use the reform as a pretext, telling Satoshi how he had been forced to take the stinky futon out of there, not fancying the idea of the workers thinking he had kidnaped someone. But for the time being, he had managed to drag the man out of that dump.  
  
That very night he waited for him, and this time he wouldn’t run away. When Satoshi entered into his new room, he found Kazunari sitting in the bed, the candle light illuminating his back. He came to a halt, about to flee again, but the man inside the room spoke faster.  
  
“Why would you sleep in that hole… All this big house was yours alone and yet you chose that putrid pigsty?”  
  
“You’re wrong. It was never mine.” He didn’t seem keen on sticking with the conversation.  
  
“Well, now that it belongs to me, please don’t act as if you were an indigent while you’re my guest. Consider it yours too for the time being.” He was facing the window and hence couldn’t make out any of Satoshi’s gestures, but he heard a small nod, or something of the sorts, you never know with the guy.  
  
Kazunari stood up and walked past him on his way out. He didn’t dare look his way, it would be too insolent to do so when he had just returned from the forest and was still so overtly naked.  
  


*

  
On the following night, Kazunari allowed the other man time to dress up before he attempted to approach his room.  
  
“You can come have a bite in the kitchen… if you want”. He was embarrassed to invite the stranger, as if he were desperate for a bit of company.  
  
“I’m not hungry. I never am when I’m back.”  
  
The phrase gave him goosebumps. Right, so he was more than sated by the time night arrived and he changed back. He really hoped it was just animals what he ate. He was not going to ask anyway. While he retraced his steps down the stairs, he kicked himself for his choice of words… _come have a bite_.  
  
Was he saying those things unconsciously? It would be really worrisome if he were somehow being tempted by the latent threat.  
  


*

  
He was done eating dinner when the front door opened. This time he had taken much longer to come back. Kazunari, who pretended to be doodling in his notebook when he actually was doing nothing but waiting impatiently for the other man, stepped out from the kitchen to see the naked man’s back walking up the stairs.  
  
“Hey…” Satoshi halted. Kazunari felt insecure again, afraid the other might deem his constant offers annoying.  
  
“I bought a strawberry cake. You can take a piece. If you want. If you like that kind of… food.” Ow God, he was so stupid.  
  
“I never said I don’t eat _human_ food.” He used a fake offended tone. So the guy got some wit. He continued his way to the second floor though, and Kazunari sighed, thinking of what an idiot he had made of himself.  
  
But to his surprise, Satoshi was back minutes later, nicely dressed in Kazunari’s clothes, which seemed quite baggy for his small frame. He sat at the table, cut a huge piece of cake and proceeded to eat it as if he were starving. He didn’t say a word, too busy munching and pushing more bites into his already full mouth, not bothering to clean the cream from his lips while he swallowed with loud gulps.  
  
Kazunari just stared, amused, and since the man wouldn’t tear his eyes from the plate, he took his time scrutinizing his unusual looks. Satoshi was indeed short and rather slim, his face round and notably tanned. Just a regular Japanese. His hair though… it was sort of copper-colored, resembling that of blond foreigners, yet it didn’t seem dyed. Was he born like that? Was he maybe a half _gaijin_? He recalled those ultranationalist doctrines that warned against interracial marriages, and the aberrant breed they would give birth to. Fallacious propaganda for ignorant people.  
  
Then he remembered. Identically colored fur had covered his body on that morning. It was just the natural color of a Mujina, he presumed.  
  
Once he had finished, Satoshi muttered an awkward _thank you_ and headed upstairs again. Kazunari was too absorbed in the new finding to stop him.  
  


*

  
“You can come have dessert tonight as well” Kazunari invited from outside Satoshi’s room.  
  
He tried to offer him sweets every night, had even started baking them himself, since it seemed the only thing that lured his guest into spending some time with him. Not that it was any quality time; Satoshi eating nonstop while Nino tried to dig in a bit deeper, to take their still flimsy bond further. He had not found any intimidating attribute in him so far, in fact, his character seemed pretty conventional, if not a bit absentminded.  
  
He wasn’t able to coax a single word from him most of times, the guy apparently capable of spending hours in complete silence. His prodding served no purpose, but neither did it seem to bother the other man as long as he had something to gulp down. So he dared take a step further one night, caging Satoshi when he was about to leave the table.  
  
“Why don’t you stay a while longer?”  
  
Satoshi eyed him briefly, then took some steps back, uncertainty displayed in his movements. Was he becoming defensive all of a sudden? Was he nervous perhaps?  
  
“You could sit and relax with me for a while” Kazunari offered while standing up, leading the way to a small living room next to the lobby.  
  
He kept delivering those ambiguous messages, not that his interlocutor caught any of the innuendo-laced jokes. He frequently wondered if the man had ever had a partner.  
  
Satoshi looked lost, of course, but followed him either way. He sat in one of the new and confortable armchairs while Kazunari opened a book. He was far from feeling confortable, his back crouching and his gaze cast down, giving the other man the chance to study him as if he were his personal guinea pig. He only snapped out of his reclusion once Kazunari stood up and told him goodnight. He didn’t move an inch nor greet him back.  
  
Minutes later Kazunari heard the familiar footsteps drawing near his threshold. The bizarre guy would lurk forever while he feigned to be asleep once again, wondering why the heck both of them behaved in such a laughable manner. Strange as it might seem, Kazunari enjoyed the eerie attention, but sometimes, only sometimes, he still feared that Satoshi would go nuts one day, for the behavior towards him was totally contradictory. Maybe the animal inside him was waiting to take the wheel and eat him alive just as the old lady had presaged.  
  
And wasn’t that an agreeable kind of horror. Under his vigilant gaze, Kazunari was engulfed by slumber, and as in previous nights, the quiet sentry prevented him from having any hideous nightmare.  
  


*

  
Kazunari had just entered the village shop when he was addressed with vicious animosity.  
  
“Get the fuck outta here bastard” a middle aged man hissed, looking at him with cold eyes. An older woman standing next to him assented, her gesture just as hostile.  
  
“Don’t harass the kid… he’s not a menace but the one in danger.”  
  
“You’re too indulgent Nobuko-san, have you forgotten who this scoundrel is? He retorted, malicious disdain tainting his words.  
  
“No. Of couse not. That’s why young man… he’s a Noguchi, wherever he goes, darkness will follow him.”  
  
“Back to your stories mother? Didn’t I tell you to leave the matter alone?” The shopkeeper had reappeared in the middle of the fuss.  
  
“Well, tell this customer of yours the same, always bad-mouthing the poor Noguchi boy.”  
  
So that was how the elder woman had identified him weeks ago. He was the infamous newcomer everyone was talking shit about. Not willing to be bullied any longer, he left the place without the food supplies he had come for.  
  
He was still fuming mad when his eccentric guest arrived home that night. He was sitting on the entrance stairs this time and Satoshi neared the building rather shyly, his naked body not the best of presentations.  
  
“Don’t you worry… not going stare at your wee wee.”  
  
His tone was slightly scornful, but Satoshi loosened up either way. He had started to understand Kazunari’s cutting words were no more than harmless sarcasm. He approached the doorway and sat one step behind Kazunari, who was hunching and focused his wrinkled frown on the grass.  
  
“Bad day?” This man could mitigate half his infuriation with just two words. His voice had a pleasant, even curing quality to it.  
  
“Bad time.” The chirping crickets filled the silence between their scarce words.  
  
Kazunari remained careful enough not to look his way, but even so, he couldn’t help being distracted by the water droplets running down Satoshi’s bronzed calves. It seemed implausible, but even being inches apart, he could still feel the body heat the other man emanated.  
  
“I’m not welcome either you know? Unlike you, I might have lived within humans all my life, yet I don’t belong anywhere.”  
  
Satoshi told him some of his fellows had lived among humans. But he wasn’t prone to do same. It would be too risky. “I lose conscience of who I am when transforming. Sometimes I come to my senses to find that I’m kilometers away from this house.” Kazunari had to force his eyes to keep looking ahead, for he really wished to see the other’s expression. He rarely spoke about his _condition_.  
  
“I have no intention of living a lie… no will to try to be something I am not, always fearful of being found and surely annihilated, just like my fellows were before I was forced to move here. There’s no gain for us when playing to be _normal_.”  
  
Maybe Kazunari should stop pretending, stop trying to fit and do the same. Disappear.  
  


*

  
He dreamt of his family that night, of how they would cherish and protect him – until they suddenly turned into demons that would restlessly pursue him across the endless corridors of the old manor.  
  
Satoshi was awoken by piercing screams. He was about to break into Kazunari’s room to make sure he was alright, but his feet couldn’t move past the door.  
  
He had easily looked after him each night, watching from the distance when he couldn’t be caught by the sleeping man. But he was not eager to let the other how much he cared, and he would have to wake him, even _touch_ him if he were to enter his room.  
  
He hadn’t been near a human in ages, and it was indeed easier with Kazunari, but he needed to set boundaries. He was afraid of hurting him, terrified of the harm he could cause the delicate man if he lost control, if he turned into the _other_ near him. The delusional man harbored the stupid idea of regarding him as a suitable friend; he probably believed they could happily share this house forever.  
  
If only he knew.  
  


*

  
Kazunari made another trip to Kumamoto city, this time spending a fair amount of money in the shopping area. He returned to Minamata with lots of bags and a stupid smile on his face. He felt something akin to hysterical anticipation.  
  
Later on, the man he had been waiting for entered the house, and Kazunari silently followed his steps towards the upper floor.  
  
“What are these?” Satoshi sometimes gave the impression of being quite obtuse when he was confused.  
  
“Well… I bought them for you. Those will suit you better than the clothes I lend you.” Silence ensued. “So… I’ll be downstairs. Come in about ten minutes alright?” The banquet was almost ready, and Kazunari couldn’t repress the excitement any longer.  
  
“I’d rather not.” Kazunari’s bright mood was cut off by the dry response.  
  
“But… I bought tuna for tonight… and some fancy choco-”  
  
“You didn’t have to.” The man by the door shut up at this. Something was definitely wrong. “Just… leave me alone okay? Don’t come tailing after me anymore.”  
  
Out of all the qualities he could use to describe Satoshi with, being rude had never been one of them. Until then.  
  
He could spit venom just as easily though.  
  
“Sure. You can stalk from outside my door later if you change your mind.”  
  
Satoshi’s head snapped to look at him. Kazunari had always tried to keep some sort of modesty around him on those occasions, never looking at the naked man. But what the heck, they were not being subtle at all that night right? He fixed an acrid look on him, taking his time, examining his body in an insolent and unmoved glance until he managed to tear some sort of reaction from the other.  
  
Was that defiance in Satoshi’s eyes?  
  
The glaring battle was nothing but a futile clash of egos, and Kazunari settled for getting out of there before something worse happened.  
  
Back in the kitchen, he munched the apparently delicious treats in utter apathy.  
  
And that was how Ninomiya Kazunari spent his 26th birthday night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering what a Mujina is, it is more or less described in this chapter, but since I made some changes to it, turning it into a bigger and much more dangerous animal, here are some links that describe the original creature, a shapeshifter from Japanese folklore that resembles a badger.
> 
> http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/tanuki.shtml
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mujina
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated!


End file.
